If Thoughts Could Kill, We'd Both be Deader Than a Week-Old Corpse

Please abuse me with fists perfectly formed. 
Bite off my tongue so i wont say a word 
(The anger dulls your beauty)
(The alcohol washes it completely away)... 
A cantankerous cacophony of calamity. 
Consume conscience but claim control. 
(And its only now I realize that i've overexposed myself)... 
I no longer believ